Hearest thou?  A loving pair
Fain would to the altar fare;
Yes! a pair in happy youth,
Full of virtue, full of truth. 
Is the hour not fix’d by fate? 
Say, how long must they still wait? 
Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo! 
Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!

’Tis not our fault, certainly! 
Only two years patient be! 
But if we ourselves please here,
Will pa-pa-papas appear? 
Know that thou’lt more kindness do us,
More thou’lt prophesy unto us. 
One! cuck-oo!  Two! cuck-oo! 
Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!

If we’ve calculated clearly,
We have half a dozen nearly. 
If good promises we’ll give,
Wilt thou say how long we’II live? 
Truly, we’ll confess to thee,
We’d prolong it willingly. 
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

Life is one continued feast—­
(If we keep no score, at least). 
If now we together dwell,
Will true love remain as well? 
For if that should e’er decay,
Happiness would pass away. 
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,
Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

1803.* (Gracefully in infinitum.) ----- The happy couple.

After these vernal rains

That we so warmly sought,
Dear wife, see how our plains

With blessings sweet are fraught! 
We cast our distant gaze

Far in the misty blue;
Here gentle love still strays,

Here dwells still rapture true.

Thou seest whither go

Yon pair of pigeons white,
Where swelling violets blow

Round sunny foliage bright. 
’Twas there we gather’d first

A nosegay as we roved;
There into flame first burst

The passion that we proved.

Yet when, with plighted troth,

The priest beheld us fare
Home from the altar both,

With many a youthful pair,—­
Then other moons had birth,

And many a beauteous sun,
Then we had gain’d the earth

Whereon life’s race to run.

A hundred thousand fold

The mighty bond was seal’d;
In woods, on mountains cold,

In bushes, in the field,
Within the wall, in caves,

And on the craggy height,
And love, e’en o’er the waves,

Bore in his tube the light.

Contented we remain’d,

We deem’d ourselves a pair;
’Twas otherwise ordain’d,

For, lo! a third was there;
A fourth, fifth, sixth appear’d,

And sat around our board;
And now the plants we’ve rear’d

High o’er our heads have soar’d!

How fair and pleasant looks,

On yonder beauteous spot,
Embraced by poplar-brooks,

The newly-finish’d cot! 
Who is it there that sits

In that glad home above? 
Is’t not our darling Fritz

With his own darling love?